


falling

by minachandler



Series: pretty canaries [29]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e16 The Offer, Episode: s03e17 Suicidal Tendencies, Episode: s03e18 Public Enemy, Episode: s03e21 Al Sah-Him, Episode: s03e23 My Name is Oliver Queen, F/F, Masturbation, Mentions of Nyssara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7766023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minachandler/pseuds/minachandler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurel's in love with her. It's as simple and as complicated as that - even though she knows it could never amount to anything and that Nyssa doesn't feel the same way. (How could she when the love of Nyssa's life was Laurel’s sister?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'asood

**Author's Note:**

> So I have been working on this since forever, and tbh I'm still not satisfied with it, but since I doubt I'll be able to make any more headway with it anytime soon, I thought I may as well post. If you asked me what the point of this fic is, though, I wouldn't really know what to tell you - unless an excuse to write gratuitous smut counts? ;)

Laurel doesn't dream in colour. 

It's not that she dreams in monochrome either, though. When she dreams it's not black and white, exactly - more drab tones of darkness tinged with grey. She can make out the colours, more or less, but it's like looking through a tinted window, watching her thoughts and hopes and demons without the sharpness and vibrance she sees when she opens her eyes in life.

But she's sure it wasn't always like this. To this day she still remembers vivid dreams from her childhood - the bright yellow of their pet canary, the gleam of the sun shining on a red apple in a tree, the strong blue of Ollie’s eyes. It was easy to remember dreams when there were things that stuck in her memory like that. 

She wonders, now, when that faded away. 

Actually, she knows exactly when - the night she found out that her boyfriend was cheating on her with her sister and that they were both dead. The colours, the  _ life _ , inside her slowly seeped out until there was nothing worth remembering left. In a way it’s easier, because the previous sharpness of her dreams was sometimes (often) too much. It’s become easier, for her, not remembering, because with unfocused dreams come blunted feelings and that way it’s never too much. 

Tonight, though, as she settles into bed, it's with a smile on her face. Sure - Ollie's in Nanda Parbat, Roy is in parts unknown on the run because he took the fall for Ollie, and she's pretty sure Felicity and Diggle are keeping something from her, whether they want to admit it or not. 

But she's okay. All of that is okay, somehow, because of Nyssa.

Laurel's in love with her. It's as simple and as complicated as that - even though she knows it could never amount to anything and that Nyssa doesn't feel the same way. (How could she when the love of Nyssa's life was Laurel’s sister?)

She doesn't know when she started falling for Nyssa exactly. Maybe it was as early as their moment together in the foundry when Laurel - for the first time - understood what Sara meant when she said she loved Nyssa. 

_ “That was the moment I fell in love with her, I think. All I knew, all I craved was to hear her laugh once more.” _

_ There was something startlingly, alarmingly beautiful, in a way that made Laurel’s heart soar, in how Nyssa’s eyes lit up, brimming with love and sparkling with unshed tears. _

_ “Thank you,” Laurel whispered. And she wasn’t sure why, but she slipped her hand through the bars of the foundry’s makeshift prison and Nyssa instinctively reached up and squeezed Laurel’s fingers in return.  _

_ But as quickly as the moment began it ended, and Nyssa let go, and Laurel’s hand returned to her side.  _

_ “You’re welcome.” _

_ “And - I’m sorry,” Laurel said suddenly.  _

_ “For what?” Nyssa asked, furrowing her brow a little. _

_ “You… shouldn’t be in here.” _

_ “Need I remind you, Laurel, that I am -” _

_ “- Nyssa al Ghul, badass assassin and heir to the Demon?” Laurel interrupted. “Yeah, I know. But you’re also the woman who saved my sister’s life. Merlyn  _ took _ my sister’s life. For that alone, he deserves to be in a cage, not you.” _

_ “I appreciate that,” Nyssa said unexpectedly. “Truly. And, Laurel?” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “Thank you.” _

_ Laurel raised her eyebrows. “For what?” _

_ “For… reminding me of who I was. Since Sara's death, I admit I have been… lost.” _

_ “You're not the only one,” Laurel said quietly.  _

_ “But you found a purpose again in taking up her mantle. One that suits you, may I add.” _

_ “Thank you,” Laurel said again. “And… for what it’s worth, I hope you find what you’re looking for too.” _

_ “My heart will rest when as-Saher is under six feet of earth,” Nyssa declared, and despite her misgivings Laurel secretly agreed. _

She wouldn’t have admitted it to herself, not that early on. Even now Sara’s ghost haunts the pair of them, reminding them of her presence. They feel it, both of them, especially when either Laurel or Nyssa gets too emotional and a few too many sparks fly between them and they’re on the delicate cusp of something greater (edging over the line of friendship and mentorhood and into unchartered territory that neither of them, Laurel thinks determinedly, need to stray into). 

But somehow she’s made peace with it - with more ease than she expects, really. Laurel’s not quite sure how, but most of the time, loving Nyssa from a distance is enough. Maybe it's because in a way it's easier to keep her at arm's length. 

That way, when Nyssa leaves - and it's not a question of if but  _ when _ \- perhaps it won't hurt as much.

_ “I am so very sorry,” Nyssa said for what felt like the umpteenth time as she followed Laurel into her apartment.  _

_ “Nyssa, seriously, it's not a big deal,” Laurel said with a laugh. “But you didn't have to come with me to the ER. You were right - it was only a hairline fracture. And I'm fine.” _

_ “If I am to teach you, I think it prudent to ensure my student’s safety. Particularly given I am the cause of her injury.” _

_ Laurel couldn't help but smile at that weird, stilted way Nyssa spoke, like someone straight out of a Jane Austen novel. To her relief some of the pain she was fighting dissipated with the distraction. Then she tried to lift her arm to shut the door behind her and ended up involuntarily whimpering, only able to bite back some of the sound in time. Nyssa's expression changed from one of guilt to concern in an instant. _

_ “Are you  _ sure _ you would not like to take something for the pain?” _

_ “I'm fine,” Laurel replied. “Get the door, please.” _

_ “What can I do to help?” Nyssa asked, and presumably at the way Laurel raised her eyebrows in response, she said, “Whatever I can do to make it up to you, ya Laurel.” _

_ “What does that mean - ‘ya’?” She was curious; it wasn't the first time Nyssa had called her that, but Laurel liked the sound of it. It sounded - affectionate, almost. And Nyssa's voice always seemed to soften considerably when saying her name. _

_ Nyssa had to think for a moment. “Well, literally, it translates to ‘oh’. It is hard to explain. The word tends to… slip into my speech when I grow to care for someone. A term of endearment, if you will.” _

_ And Laurel wasn't sure why, exactly, but Nyssa's words made her heart thump just a little faster as she smiled at her new friend, not quite believing - or not wanting to believe - what she had just heard. _

_ But then Laurel shook her head and the moment was broken - because, really, it wasn’t like it was even there at all. “Not that you need to make it up to me… but if you insist -” _

_ “I do,” Nyssa replied firmly.  _

_ “- there is something you could do.” _

_ “Anything.” _

_ “Do you mind - staying over tonight?”  _

_ Nyssa raised her eyebrows. “May I ask why?” _

_ Laurel didn't quite realise the faint pink hue on her cheeks until she sensed the heat of a blush working its way up her face. She looked away quickly.“I could, uh, use the company. But if you have somewhere else to be, it's fine, I can call my sponsor and -” _

_ “Your sponsor?” Nyssa repeated sharply.  _

_ “My AA sponsor. I'm a year sober.” She held up the AA chip on her keychain. _

_ “Something I already knew.” _

_ Again Laurel shook her head. “The thing is - alcohol wasn't my only poison. I got hooked on pain meds last year too. Which means whenever I get hurt I have to pass on them and right now I'm - really feeling the urge and I guess what I'm saying is… I could use a friend right now. If that's okay.” _

_ Laurel suddenly shivered, goosebumps erupting on the back of her neck, because she felt like she had stripped herself bare, in a way she didn’t intend. And for what felt like the longest time Nyssa didn't say anything.  _

_ (Nyssa had a way of looking at you like that, though - she somehow made her gaze last days, or nights, maybe, just with the intensity of her stare, and Laurel was sure Nyssa didn't even realise the effect it had on her.) _

_ “You need not call your sponsor. I am happy to keep you company overnight.” _

_ “Great. We can order pizza - there's this little Italian place called Mario’s that does the most amazing pizza with pineapple -” _

_ “Stop right there,” Nyssa ordered. “I do not believe in mixing fruit with savoury food. Of any kind.” _

_ “You haven't even tried it,” Laurel tried to reason, but she couldn't hold back a laugh at the look of distaste on Nyssa's face. _

_ “Ya Laurel, I am far from the epitome of good values, but surely you can see that such a combination would be culinary blasphemy…” _

_ Laurel smiled, heart soaring, as she led the way into the living room. It was going to be a long night. _

She turns on her side, kicking off her shorts and flinging them to parts unknown in her room, wishing there was more of a breeze coming through the open window. But she has no such luck, so she tries lying on her back, forcing her eyes closed and wishing sleep would come.

Her hand has settled on her bare thigh, and she imagines, for a brief moment, how Nyssa’s hand would feel there. Laurel’s felt Nyssa’s hands before, all calloused fingers and soft palms (when she was checking Laurel’s arm to assess the damage done, early on in training) and it’s easy to widen her legs just a bit and picture her between them. Nyssa would look her right in the eyes as her hand would inch up Laurel’s thigh… the very thought sends a pool of heat straight through to her panties and Laurel lifts her hand, slips it past the now soaked cotton where she reaches her entrance.

She's dreamt of her before. Laurel can't quite remember everything, just Nyssa's lips on hers and a flower - muted purple - placed in Laurel's hair by Nyssa. But this is different - maybe because Laurel's still drifting between sleep and consciousness and so can still feel the faint trace of her own touch on the inside of her thigh.

Or maybe because if she squeezes her eyes shut tightly enough, the fingers curling inside her would be a bit longer, rougher - and feel infinitely more pleasurable because they belonged to -

_ “Nyssa?”  _

_ Nyssa turned around on the spot and immediately her eyes widened. She didn't say anything, though. _

_ “How does it look?” _

_ “The dress?” Nyssa asked and for some reason she seemed momentarily distracted. “Well, I am certainly no one to object to it being a little low-cut, but -” _

_ Laurel laughed. “The  _ cast _. Though I could do with your opinion on the dress too - I'm not sure if orange is really my colour -” _

_ “It is,” Nyssa interrupted. “It looks fine, by the way.” At Laurel's raised eyebrows she added with a smile, “The cast, I mean.” _

_ “It still hurts after last night, I gotta say.” _

_ “You must grow accustomed to fighting whilst injured, ya Laurel,” Nyssa told her. _

_ “Yeah, I know, we've been through this. I'm just tired, that's all.” _

_ “Besides which, need I remind you, my dear student, that I will not be in Starling forever? There will come a time when you will not have my guidance.” _

_ “But that won't be anytime soon,” Laurel said quickly. “You'll still be mine - my teacher - for a while longer, right?” _

_ “Correct. Now, do you need me to check it before you go to this wedding?” Before Laurel could answer, though, Nyssa was already stepping forward and lifting Laurel's injured arm so she could examine it closely. “Wiggle your fingers,” Nyssa ordered, and Laurel did so, wincing a little but managing okay.  _

_ “You sure you don't want to come with me?” _

_ “I doubt Mr Diggle would appreciate a deadly assassin like myself on what should be the happiest day of his life.” _

_ Laurel put her good hand on Nyssa's arm. “Hey. There was a plus one on the invitation. I'm allowed to bring a friend with me. And you're a friend.” _

_ “I appreciate that, Laurel, truly. But I would prefer to keep my presence in Starling between us, if possible. Especially given your nighttime companions are not nearly as fond of me as you are.” _

_ This last was said in a gently mocking tone, the kind that Laurel was unused to that made her smile… the kind that made Laurel fall just a little bit more in love with her. _

Laurel yanks down her panties to her knees, not even bothering to pull them off completely, and she arches her back, gasping as the pleasure courses through her, searing, white hot, to the point that she can barely breathe.

But her imagination doesn't stop there and when she lifts up her t-shirt (thankful now that she isn't wearing a bra) the hand tweaking her sensitive nipple, kneading her breast isn't hers but Nyssa's, beautiful, strong, kind Nyssa who would probably whisper sweet melodious Arabic nothings in Laurel's ear while bringing Laurel to the very brink and then tortuously, teasingly pulling back her hand just enough to make Laurel whimper in protest.

“Nyssa…” she whispers, savouring the name on her tongue like a prayer, fingers still inching up inside herself until her nails scrape the swollen nub of her clitoris. She closes her eyes, imagines Nyssa sprawled on top of her on her bed, fingers buried deep inside Laurel while looking her right in the eyes and watching unblinking as she reached her climax, rocking her hips upwards and uttering once more - louder this time - “ _ Nyssa… _ ”

Then as she collapses back onto her bed, breathing heavily, Laurel comes thudding back down to earth, too. It's just her in the bed, just Laurel. No Nyssa kissing her way between Laurel’s bare breasts, a delicate line towards her navel. No Nyssa meeting her eyes for permission and then pushing her legs apart with such force that Laurel's underwear rips. No Nyssa kissing up Laurel's thigh, tongue tracing delicate prayers into her skin until she reaches her dripping centre, and it's easier now in a way because she knows she's going to come quicker this time but Laurel's also still sensitive from her last orgasm, so her arousal feels sharper between her legs, the ache for her almost painful - and she's gasping for air now, arching her back so her hips thrust right against Nyssa's mouth -

Laurel comes again with a final gasp, and it's as she's whispering Nyssa's name under her breath that she wakes fully and tears spurt uncontrollably from her eyes. She's spent, still breathing heavily from the exhilaration of her semi-dream, but it's now that the truth hits her, really hits her.

And that truth, more painful than one of Nyssa's arrows could ever be to her heart, is that the closest Laurel Lance can be to the woman she loves is only in her wildest dreams.


	2. 'arjwani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What's so bad about falling, ya Laurel? Perhaps you are. But you are not falling apart. Or into pieces. You are falling into place.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title means "purple" in Arabic :)

The sun is rising when Laurel surfaces from sleep, and even in her drowsiness she can't help but smile at the still-warm dent in the pillow beside her, and the faint glow of the bathroom light in the hallway, and - as she turns on her side - the sunrise’s cloudy pinks and purples streaking across the sky like the brushstrokes of a carefree artist.

She pulls the blankets a little closer to her, so they go over her bare arms, because even in the heat of the rising sun it's still a bit chilly. As she does so she hears the soft pad of Nyssa's footsteps as she makes her way down the hall back to Laurel's room. Laurel smiles, turns on her side.

“Morning,” she says, and as Nyssa settles back into bed with her Laurel can't help but reach out to play with Nyssa's hair.

“Good morning,” Nyssa replies warmly. “I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you.”

“‘S’okay, Nyssa,” Laurel says softly, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. “Needed to… get up for work anyway.”

“Now?” Nyssa asks.

Laurel laughs. “No, not even ADAs have to get to work that early. But I need to… shower. Get changed. Stay here with you for a bit,” she adds with a smile, and when Nyssa smiles back and her eyes light up Laurel's heart can't help but soar with something that feels like joy. She kisses her, then, before landing another on the hollow of Nyssa throat and then burying her face in the crook of her neck. “I'm glad you're still here,” she says, and her voice is muffled and she's glad Nyssa can't see her face or that she's holding her breath.

“As am I, ya Laurel,” Nyssa murmurs back.

“I don't just mean  _ here _ , here. I mean…” Laurel gestures around her. “ _ Here _ . Part of me can't believe I still have you. You know. After everything that's happened.”

Nyssa's hand slides down Laurel's back, pushing her hair out of the way, before caressing the gentle curve of Laurel's hip, thumb faintly tracing the stretch marks that decorate the juncture between her abdomen and thigh. “You know you can have me, samaya,” Nyssa whispers. “In… every sense of the word.”

_ “Thank you,” Laurel said quietly, not quite able to look at Nyssa. They were in the alleyway outside Verdant that had become their familiar haunt, the starting point when Laurel would go on patrol as the Black Canary.  _

_ “For what? Oliver is in prison and the entire city knows he is the Arrow.” _

_ Laurel shook her head. “You know what.” _

_ “I was merely returning the favour.” _

_ “I've never saved your life before,” Laurel countered. _

_ “On the contrary, you have, Laurel,” Nyssa said with a slight smile, touching her shoulder as if on impulse. “Without you I admit I would be… lost. Lost and -” _

_ “- lonely?” Laurel suggested. _

_ “Why do you say that?” Nyssa said sharply. _

_ “Because it's what I see when I look in the mirror,” Laurel said softly. “Or… at least, that was what I  _ saw _.” _

_ “Perhaps you should try to see what I see.” _

_ “What's that?” _

_ “Is it not obvious?” Laurel tilted her head to one side a little, watching her, not answering. “I see a hero. Starling City's guardian angel.” _

_ “If I'm any kind of angel, it's more the… fallen kind.” _

_ “What's so bad about falling, ya Laurel? Perhaps you are. But you are not falling apart. Or into pieces. You are falling into place.” _

_ “Poetic,” Laurel said with a smile, and Nyssa shrugged, smiling back. _

_ “It is nonetheless comforting to know Oliver has not accepted my father's offer,” Nyssa admitted. “Forgive me for my selfishness.” _

_ “I'm sorry too,” Laurel said quietly. “I was meant to keep you being in Starling between us.” _

_ “You were protecting your loved ones. I expected nothing less.” _

_ “Just like I would with you,” Laurel said without thinking, and their eyes met for a split second before Nyssa looked away. Still, Laurel persisted. “I mean it. I'm not going to lose you too.” _

_ Nyssa sighed. “I dearly wish that was a choice that could be made, ya Laurel.” _

“You okay?” Laurel asks. She can't help noticing the faraway look in Nyssa's eyes. “You seem… somewhere else.”

Nyssa doesn't say anything, just picks up Laurel's free hand with her own. Impulsively Laurel drops a kiss on Nyssa's palm. There's a scar there, faint but still visible, from where Oliver's sword had cut her. Laurel reaches up, then, finger running gently along the scar on her neck, also from Oliver's sword.

“I can't believe he did this to you,” Laurel whispers.

Nyssa smiles but the pain is still there. “I have dealt with far worse.”

“You know that doesn't make me feel any better, right?”

At this Nyssa's smile disappears. “I am sorry.”

Laurel shakes her head. “No, I am. Oliver was -”

“The love of your life?” Nyssa asks.

“There was a time when I thought as much,” Laurel admits. “But now I know better. And whoever he was to me… it doesn't excuse this.” Laurel taps gently at the scar on Nyssa's neck before kissing it ever so lightly. “Especially considering it was all a ruse for Ra's.”

“He had to be convincing,” Nyssa reasons. “While I do not welcome him besting me in battle - I understand his motivations.”

Laurel shakes her head again, kissing her this time, a slightly clumsy, misplaced kiss that lands on the corner of Nyssa's mouth. Laurel feels Nyssa smile against her lips at their touch, though, and that makes Laurel breathe a little easier. “That doesn't justify hurting someone I love.”

_ “Well, if he can change, why can't you?” _

_ “You don't understand, Laurel -” _

_ “Then explain it to me,” Laurel said determinedly, and on an impulse she stepped forward, taking the wet cloth from Nyssa without asking and dabbing it gently on the cut on her neck made with Oliver's sword. “I got it,” she said softly, and to her surprise although at first Nyssa's hand went instinctively to Laurel's wrist it then fell to her side as Nyssa quickly acquiesced and Laurel dipped the cloth in the water again, wringing it out and wiping away the blood. _

_ “Thank you,” Nyssa breathed, but she winced and Laurel could hear her sharp intake of breath when the cloth stung at her skin.  _

_ “Sorry,”  Laurel said, and she couldn't help but wince too at her friend’s pain. She tried to go gentler and breathed a sigh of relief when this time Nyssa didn't flinch at her touch. _

_ But when Laurel was done Nyssa stepped away, not quite meeting Laurel's eyes. “Al-Saheem has been ordered to take me back to Nanda Parbat so my father can kill me. Or so he can.” _

_ “I won't let him,” Laurel said instantly. “He'll have to get through me first -” _

_ “Laurel, I am not afraid of death,” Nyssa snapped. But Laurel's alarm must have shown on her face because immediately Nyssa added, “I am sorry. I just - have been ready for death for as long as I can remember..” _

_ “Then what  _ -”

_ “You know exactly what I am scared of, Laurel, and it has nothing to do with me.” _

_ “Nyssa…” _

_ “You said it yourself, Laurel,” Nyssa said firmly. “You did not recognise Oliver tonight. And if anything were to happen to you I would never forgive myself - or be able to live with myself, for that matter - knowing you put yourself in danger for me.” _

_ Nyssa shivered, and Laurel instinctively reached for the jacket lying on the table nearby and put it around Nyssa's shoulders. _

_ “That's not your call to make,” Laurel said gently. “You know that. And don't you think that goes both ways?” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “Oliver is - was - my friend. If he had hurt you - if the worst had happened…” Laurel paused, trying to fight the tears suddenly in her eyes. “What would I have done, Nyssa? I mean it. I can't lose you. I can't.” _

_ And then she was not sure why, exactly, but she raised her hand to Nyssa's cheek. Nyssa closed her eyes at her touch, grasping Laurel's fingers. _

_ “Laurel -” _

_ Laurel took a deep breath, and her heart rate accelerated very suddenly, making it hard for her to speak.“Nyssa, I -” _

_ “Laurel,” Nyssa said again, but this time it was a plea. “Don't.” _

_ “Don't what?” _

_ “Don't say anything that you would not have said if I hadn't nearly lost my life tonight.” _

_ And with that Laurel's hand dropped to her side and she couldn't quite look Nyssa in the eyes when she whispered - more to herself than to Nyssa - “Fine.” _

_ Laurel turned away, unable to bear the warmth still in Nyssa's gaze a second longer, and began to take off her jacket, going to stand near the pile of her regular clothes so she could get changed. A rustling sound of leather against skin told her Nyssa was doing the same several yards away from Laurel.  _

_ (That made it easier, then, for Laurel to wipe away the tears still brimming in her eyes, knowing Nyssa definitely wasn't looking.) _

“Do you remember how we first met?” Nyssa asks, and Laurel gets it, lets her change the subject, humours her with a smile.

“Yeah. I remember being kinda scared of my sister’s assassin girlfriend,” Laurel says teasingly, but Nyssa's face falls and Laurel regrets it instantly.

“The assassin who kidnapped your mother and had you poisoned, you mean,” Nyssa says, turning away so her back is to her. Laurel can sense the shame in the way she stiffens when Laurel reaches out, touches Nyssa's bare shoulder.

“Hey. I forgave you for that a long time ago. And - you're not the same person I first met, Nyssa. But the thing is - even if you weren't? You were only that person because you thought you had to be.”

Nyssa doesn't reply but Laurel persists, shifting upwards a bit and then moving her hair out of the way so she can press a kiss on the back of Nyssa's neck. 

And then Nyssa says unexpectedly, “And then you proved to me otherwise.”

“No,” Laurel says firmly. “You figured that out for yourself. It was all you.”

_ “I have been a most excellent trainer!” Nyssa said with pride. _

_ “We need to get this guy somewhere where he can't infect anyone,” Laurel said, but then she caught Nyssa's eye and - completely on an impulse - winked. “And you have.” _

_ “And you have been the best student I could ask for,” Nyssa said with a fond smile. “In more ways than one.” _

_ Laurel opened her mouth to reply but before she could an onlooker shouted, “Who is that?” _

_ A crowd was starting to form, Laurel realised quickly. “Everybody get back!” Laurel called, using her voice filter. _

_ “It's the Black Canary!” _

_ “Is he dead?” shouted a woman anxiously. _

_ “The Black Canary does not kill,” Nyssa said firmly to the crowd before Laurel could say anything. Then, without warning, she fired a tear gas arrow in the middle of the gaggle of people, and it didn't take long for the area to clear. _

_ “Come on, let's move him,” Laurel said, and as she made to grab his shoulders she checked for a pulse just to be sure. _

_ Nyssa saw her looking and laughed. “I was not merely saying that for the crowd’s sake. You are not a killer, ya Laurel. You do not have it in you.” _

_ “For what it's worth, Nyssa,” Laurel replied, panting as they lifted the man up the steps so they could tie him up and dump him in an alleyway, “you aren't either.” _

_ “I killed several people mere hours ago,” Nyssa countered. “I am the daughter of Ra's al Ghul. Of course I am a killer.” _

_ “No,” Laurel said, and she breathed a sigh of relief when they came to a halt and dumped their quarry unceremoniously to the ground so he landed with a thump. “You're not your father. You prove that just by being here, with me. You're better.” _

_ “If we were not in the middle of a city-wide emergency, ya Laurel,” Nyssa said, unable to fight the beginnings of a smile judging by the way her eyes lit up, “I would vehemently disagree.” _

And her heart soars when Nyssa turns over so she is facing Laurel once more, gaze filled with the kind of searing heat that sends a warm flush up Laurel's neck and cheeks. “Regardless, ya Laurel… I will always love you for it.”

And Laurel can't stop herself kissing her now, one hand going into Nyssa's hair and the other cupping her cheek. Nyssa just sighs at first, letting Laurel kiss her, but then - in one fluid movement reminiscent of their sparring sessions - Nyssa's lying on top of Laurel, knees anchoring against Laurel's hips so she's pinned down - but Laurel isn't exactly complaining.

(The white-hot-wet rush of arousal that starts up between her legs says that much.)

“I love you too,” Laurel whispers back, just as Nyssa crawls down Laurel's body till she's at the crux of her thighs, pulling her legs apart just enough for her to land a kiss on the inside of her thigh. Warm breath ghosts her knee and Nyssa's archer's hands are gentle, fingers long and rough but oh so slow as they slip inside Laurel, making her gasp. Already her toes are curling and she grabs a fistful of the sheets, but Nyssa knows now to go easy, that Laurel's sensitive. 

She knows Laurel's weak spots, the places where if her finger skirts up half an inch Laurel's knees will buckle, or when her mouth replaces where her fingers were just seconds earlier so Nyssa's humming against her clit while her free hand reaches for Laurel's. Laurel tries to tug it away, murmuring “I'm sweaty”, but Nyssa doesn't seem to care, only holds on tighter so their fingers are interlaced. 

And when Laurel knows she's close she pulls Nyssa up by the shoulders, kissing her. It's an unsteady kiss, because she's shaking, on the edge of her climax, and she can taste herself on Nyssa's lips (something she still isn't used to) and Nyssa’s smiling but looks at her questioningly.

“I want to see you when I -” Laurel says breathlessly, not even able to complete her sentence, but Nyssa understands, kissing her again, lips touching her forehead and nose and finally her mouth once more. And all the while Nyssa’s fingers are at work just below Laurel's waist, touching, stroking, caressing, parting damp hair and searching for Laurel's favourite spot. Nyssa lets out a small  _ oh  _ when she finds it, right into Laurel's mouth, and Laurel's close now, really close. 

And then Laurel buries her face into Nyssa's neck, gasping for air, mouthing soft vowels into warm skin while her nails dig into Nyssa's back. When Laurel comes, though, she pulls back, looks right into Nyssa's eyes, richly darkened with arousal as Laurel rides out her climax, and there's something so inexplicably, intimately beautiful about the way Nyssa's gazing at her that Laurel has to kiss her. 

Their fingers twine once more, and when Laurel raises Nyssa's hand to press a kiss on her knuckles, Nyssa says, “I wish it could always be like this.”

And when, not much later, Laurel's got her head buried between Nyssa's legs and Nyssa's fingers are tangling through Laurel’s hair and Nyssa's knees press right up against Laurel's bare hips - Laurel wonders if wishes ever came true. 

And it's with that thought that Laurel falls asleep on Nyssa's shoulder that night, and for the first time in a long, long time, Laurel Lance dreams in full colour.

**Author's Note:**

> I would loooooove to know what you think of this one, so if you enjoyed reading (and please, only if you enjoyed it), please take a moment to leave a comment. Also, this is a parallel fic to [distance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5441939) and a companion to [the colour purple in a field](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7622212), if you want more to read :) Thanks so much for reading!


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